Our place in the larger story

I have had two surreal experiences in the last fifteen minutes. When I
got into my car this morning, the thermometer on the dash said -29.
That’s just cold. The surreal part came when I started to drive, and
the thermometer started to drop – and then it just went blank. I think
it froze.

The second experience had to do with the reason I was out on such a
cold morning in the first place. When you live in the country,
sometimes you end up working in rural coffee shops while waiting for
things to happen because it’s more efficient than driving home. So I’m
sitting in a tiny greasy spoon called Grumpy Babbas, listening to the
local farmers sitting behind me complain loudly and “colorfuly” about
everything from insurance scams to a neighbour that got caught in his
grain auger and had all his clothes stripped off (“true story, by
god…most guys woulda been dead…”) to the shenanigans of the Wheat
Board. It’s like wandering into a movie set…or returning to the
small northern community where I grew up.

All right – I know the screen of your android is already cluttered, so
let me get to the point. Sometimes the world feels like it is made up
of the kind of contrasts that are hard to reconcile. With the extreme
cold come night skies that look like they were painted by Van Gogh,
with stars so clear they look like you could reach out and grab them
and a moon so bright it keeps my kids up at night. With the rough and
ready story telling in the small town restaurant comes the unassuming
openness of the country culture (I already know that the special
tonight will be turkey, because “we still got that turkey in the
fridge, don’t we Susie?” carried clear as a bell from the kitchen).

In a world full of those kind of gaps, it can be a challenge to
discern our place. This Sunday, we`ll gather in our small corner of
the universe to explore what our place in the larger story might be.
Until then, I think I might just stay here at Grumpy Babbas.  I know I
don`t really belong, but it`s warm and the server just refilled my
little tin tea pot…and I feel welcomed.

Remember to bring your mug so you can hug something warm!

Peace,

Tim